An Education
by TheBeautifulOnes
Summary: A tragic event throws Olivia Pope into Fitzgerald Grant's path leaving him to decide between what is easy and what is right.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Always a reader, first time a writer. I don't know where this came from but it wouldn't get out of my head. Olitz is always endgame for me & I'll forever say screw Shonda with her doppelganger Olivia Pope who kidnapped the real OP in s2 and made her vanish.

This won't be pretty and there'll be a lot of triggers here, so I'll always try to post a warning/not go too far into detail.

This will be a bit dark, but I promise there will be light too.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Harrison Wright asked his best friend Olivia Pope for the thousandth time.

Again, she nodded her head; her doe eyes wide as she took a deep breath. They stood in front of the D.C PD, Olivia's heart thudding wildly in her chest. She wasn't supposed to be here, this shouldn't have happened to her. This was supposed to be the internship of dreams for the twenty-four year old, not a one-way ticket to hell.

"He's a powerful man, Liv. We both know what he's going to do to you. I need you to one hundred percent certain. I need to know what you want out of this. What's the endgame here."

Olivia swallowed hard, every inch of her in pain. The oversized hoodie did little to cover the handshape bruise stretching around her neck, nor did it hide the bruises on her wrists. She felt dirty, useless and stupid at the thought of telling a room full of strangers what'd happened to her - what he'd done.

"I can't let him get away with it, Harrison. What if he does it to someone else? Oh god, what if he's done it to someone else." her bottom lip quivered, her eyebrows knotting together in the middle of her forehead just at the thought.

"He probably has. Men like B.G always have more skeletons in their closet, Liv. It's just finding the card to pluck in order to topple the house."

God, she was going to be sick.

Wrenching away from Harrison, Olivia barely made it to the bottom of the steps before what little contents in her stomach spilled from her lips. She'd refused to make a complaint last night, barely able to make it through the evidence kit. It was only when Harrison promised his unrelenting support that she'd gathered enough strength and enough confidence to even move her feet towards the police station. She'd nearly burned her skin off showering beforehand, though.

"Maybe we should go back to the apartment. You're not ready to do this. I don't want to force you into this. I'm sorry." He moved to put a hand on Olivia's back to guide her back to his awaiting card, but Olivia shrank away. She flinched so hard that Harrison jumped back; hands high. "I'm not going to hurt you, Liv…."

An expression of guilt caused Olivia's normally high cheekbones to sag, her stomach filling with concrete as she stared back at her friend. She'd never be afraid of Harrison, ever; he'd been her best friend since grade school, but muscle memory was a bitch.

"Harry...I'm…"

"I know, Liv. It's fine. Let's go home."

"No. He can't get away with this. Come hell or highwater, he's going to pay."

Harrison nodded, holding out a hand out for Olivia to take at her own discretion.

Minutes later they were inside the station.

Olivia held onto Harrison's hand tightly as she approached the desk. A portly looking male cop, possibly in his early thirties, glanced at her over his glances.

"Can I help you?"

"I'd like to file a report. I was attacked."

* * *

"One day, son, this whole shebang will be yours to head." Gerry Grant, also known as Big Gerry, announced to his son, clapping the younger man on his back as they stood in his father's re-election campaign headquarters.

Beyond the office windows, the sky had begun to darken.

"You forgot, dad," Fitz laughed gingerly, skating out from beneath his father's hold, "elections are a thing. You can't just give me your Senate seat."

"Poppycock. Bush gave his seats over to W and that other idiot. You're ten times the men they are. I've done all the work; you'll just have to run the ticket one day and you'll be a shoe-in."

Thirty-three year old Fitzgerald Grant shook his head at his father's antics, rolling his eyes. Father and son couldn't be more diametrically opposed if they tried, While Big Gerry was a take all be all, Fitz was a hardcore idealist. He wasn't suited for his father's hardball politics - the nit and grit, dog-whistle, backdoor dog-fight politics.

"I haven't thrown my hat in a ring past state politics, Dad. I don't know about…"

"Pish-posh. You'll be president someday, mark my words." A couple of interns skated through, Big Gerry pausing to eye one appreciatively. "And you know, the benefit of being president, being in power? All the women love it." he laughed, slapping Fitz on the back. "I swear, this girls just can't get enough when they know you rule the world."

Fitz could feel his stomach turn at the thought. Any illusion Fitz had of his parents in a happy marriage had ended long ago. He knew his father was a perpetual skirt chaser, and unlike his father, Fitz's mind always lingered on find _the_ one. Someone he could spend his life with, grow old together, and perhaps save the world with one day.

"Speaking of, when are you going to marry that Millicent Cartwright? She's good stock that girl. Make a fine Nancy Reagan out of her." Big Gerry continued and Fitz smiled tightly.

"Mellie, dad, and if I propose, you'll know."

"If? You mean when. She's great stock. A win, win. A first lady in the making."

Fitz opened his mouth to retort, ready to reply that he didn't feel like Mellie was right for him solely because of the reasons his father had listed, but was cut off by the sight of two cops filtering in through the front door.

Big Gerry straightened his back, white hair slick as he held out his hand for the first cop and then the second. "Gentlemen, D.C's finest. How can I help you?"

"Senator, we're going to have to ask you to come down to the station and answer a couple of questions about last night."

"About last night? You mean my victory party? I know it got a little out of hand, boys, but I see no reason to pull me in a day late and a dollar short. Whatever the fee is for breaking noise ordinances, I'll gladly pay it."

The cop on the left, a portly fellow, looked down at his feet, shaking his head before he brought his gaze back up to a bewildered Gerry. "No, sir. It's about an attack last night, on one of your interns."

"Oh god, are they alright?"

Fitz looked from his father to the cops, eyebrows raised.

"I left around midnight, I didn't see or hear anything...it must've happened after I left."

"It'd be easier to do this at the station, Sir. Give you the courtesy of learning what this is about before you speak any more."

Catching onto what the officer was insinuating, Fitz stepped in front of his father. "Now wait a minute, I'm Senator Grant's attorney here. What's going on?"

"Now wait a damn minute, Fitz, I can handle this. I demand to get to the bottom of this. Now I didn't see anything or hear anything. Why would I been questioned?"

"You're not being questioned, dad. You're being accused."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't usually like long winded author's notes in stories I read and I promised I wouldn't put one in here, but I feel like I have to this time around.

This story is covering a sensitive subject. I understand it is not an easy read and I would never ask you to read something that makes you uncomfortable. With that being said, I do promise to treat the topic with the utmost respect and care. There are no simple fixes in situations like this – no magical romance cures for the trauma being explored here so don't expect that to happen, either. It is called 'An Education' for a reason.

If you're still on this walk with me, thank you. If you've had to hop off, understandable.

Thank you for reading.

* * *

"He told me I looked like I had soft lips." Olivia shuddered as she took a deep breath in to steady herself.

"What'd you say in return?" A short haired white female detective asked, pen scribbling furiously across a notepad.

"I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say so I excused myself to the bathroom. He was leering at me, staring at my mouth and I felt uncomfortable."

"Had you been drinking?"

Olivia nodded slowly. "A couple of glasses of champagne like everyone else to celebrate the win."

"Mhmm." The detective nodded.

A tidal wave of dread washed over Olivia and she immediately regretted mentioning her alcohol consumption. While she'd yet to graduate from law school, pausing her semester to take on this internship, she knew from her mock trial debates that any defense attorney worth their retainer would hammer her home about her drinking.

"It was just two glasses and I don't even think I finished the second one completely because my boyfriend had called me to let me know he'd be able to pick me up." She quickly amended thinking of Edison.

Crap. Edison.

He'd be wondering where she was; she'd been neglecting his phone calls and ignoring his messages since -

"Okay, Miss Pope, you went to the bathroom and then?"

"I stayed there for about twenty minutes, trying to freshen up. And when I came out everyone but Senator Grant had left. He was standing near the phone bank tables with his sleeves rolled up and his tie hanging off his neck." She had to stop for a minute, close her eyes and breathe in because everything after she'd gotten out of the bathroom is almost too disturbing to relay.

The detective caught her pause and reached a hand across the table, though she refrained from touching Olivia. "Do you need a glass of water, to take a break?"

Olivia shook her head no, trying to simultaneously find a way out of and into herself. She wanted to detach, to pretend she was telling someone else's story, but at the same time she wanted to hold her head high and declare that this event didn't define her, too.

In the end, detachment won out. Her eyes were glassy as she quickly recalled the point of no return for her. How Big Gerry had backed her into a corner and touched her despite her protests; her ripped stockings and torn blouse; how the handprint had ended up on her neck, and how she'd tried and fought to escape, even managing at one point to scratch his arm, but it was no use. He was at least a foot taller than her and at least 100 pounds heavier.

"He thanked me after. Said next time he wanted to play with my mouth. Asked if he could get me a ride somewhere and if I needed any money. I just ran, I grabbed my bag and ran. I forgot about my boyfriend coming - I don't know if he ever showed up. I ran to my friend Harrison's apartment. I just wanted to take a shower, but he convinced me to go get medical help and now I'm here." she chose her words carefully, methodical almost as her story drew to conclusion. Somehow she was eerily calm on the outside, but inside she buzzed with anxious energy.

"Convinced?"

"I was scared."

Her brown eyes searched the face of the female detective, looking for any tells as to whether this woman believed her or not, but like Olivia, the detective gave away very little with her expression.

"Anything else you'd like to say, Ms. Pope? Any minute detail you can remember. Anything he said or did?"

"He called me Alyssa and asked me if I was still apolitical."

* * *

"I guess congratulations are in order, huh?" A balding, white male detective asked as he took the seat across from Gerry Grant. Fitz sized the man up with a quirk of the brow. "Senator Grant. _Reelected_ Senator Grant. This is what, your fourth turn out the gate?"

"Fifth," Gerry corrected with a bright grin.

"It's gotta be great being the man in charge. Must have all kinds of people - especially young women - just fawning over you."

"Don't answer that, dad." Fitz quickly interjected, causing his father to cast a sideways scowl in his son's direction.

Fitz knew what that scowl meant; I was doing his before you were born. Fitz sighed; even in times where his father clearly needed his help, it was clear Big Gerry Grant wasn't going to take it.

"Alright, which disgruntled intern who didn't get hired onto staff is telling you I touched her?" Gerry shot back at the detective and the other man smiled.

"Already handing out jobs before you even got the golden ticket?" The detective questioned.

"When you have my confidence, sometimes you just know."

The two men just stared at each other for a small moment - a meeting of the Alphas - before Fitz cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"Is there a time frame for this incident, Officer…"

"Detective, Detective Daniels. And there is. Shortly before midnight. We have an intern who tells us just how your father likes to celebrate."

Fitz's stomach clenched and he cast a look at his father who simply reminds still, poker face glued tightly in place. While Fitz knew from experience his father had roaming eyes and hands, catching him with his pants down literally several times in his youth, Fitz never once thought his father was cable of _forcing_ someone. Big Gerry was charismatic, charming and inviting on his own. Why would he ever attack anyone?

"She's lying." Big Gerry deflected. "She came onto me. They always do when you've got a name for yourself."

"She asked for that handprint around her neck?" Daniels bit back, but Gerry didn't recoil.

"Dad-" Fitz interjected, but Gerry ignored.

"Look, my marriage isn't perfect and when some twenty-two year old tart asks me to give it to her rough, I oblige. At the end of the day, though, I always go back to my wife. Now I seem to be having a Glenn Close fatal attraction on my hands."

Detective Daniels simply smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"Any more questions, detective? I'm sure there's a civil suit coming my way any day now with a nice price tag attached to it so I'd like to waste as little of your time and mine here as possible."

Fitz's stomach turned at his father's cavalier tone. Did he not understand the gravity of the situation at hand? And what would that mean for Fitz's mother? His father's reputation?

"So you're admitting to sex then?"

"Consensual, yes."

"Why don't you explain your version of this _consensual_ ev-"

Before Daniels was gifted the chance to finish his words, the interrogation room door banged open. An elder gentleman completely devoid of hair on his head interrupts.

"Senator Grant, you're free to go."

"Captain, no. He was -"

"I've been given orders, and so have you. You're free to go, Senator. I ask that you come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this conversation, however."

Big Gerry smiled as he climbed to his feet, patting Fitz on his back appreciatively. "Come on, son. Let's find your mother and finish celebrating."

But Fitz didn't want to celebrate. He'd tried to stay away from his father's entire camping, citing work pressures as an excuse, and now at the moment he regretted ever getting on his fight yesterday morning for D.C.

He eyed Gerry as they headed out into the night, allowed to exit the station via the backdoor.

"Dad, did you…"

"Are you asking as my attorney or as my son, Fitzgerald?"

"I-"

"Either way, the answer is no. Did I have sex with that girl? Yes. But I gave her everything she asked for."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So the first four chapters of this are written out. I'm trying to post between school assignments. This chapter is Liv-centric. We'll catch up with Fitz next chapter and find out where his head is. And yes, they'll be coming into contact with each other shortly.

Again, this is a heavy topic that will be treated very delicately. If you're still here with me, thank you. If you have to hop off, I understand.

* * *

"Olivia Pope. Olivia Pope. _Olivia Pope_?"

"Liv. Olivia." Harrison spoke from his spot in the chair next to Olivia, echoing the pharmacy technician's call. When his friend had yet to answer again, he reached for her wrist. His fingertips barely grazed the skin of her left wrist; dark bruises popped against the deep brown of her flesh, and she jumped. Her skittishness caused Harrison to quickly withdraw his hand.

"Sorry…" Olivia mumbled softly, bringing her gaze up to meet his.

"It's fine, I should've—"

"Don't, please. Don't." she whispered. That was twice now that she'd flinched at simple contact from, of all people, Harrison. They'd been friends for ages, since infancy damn near; had bathed together, broke bread, slept in the same bed…and she couldn't stop flinching at his reach. What the hell was she going to do when Edison tried?

"Your prescriptions are ready."

Olivia climbed to her feet, nodding. Every inch of her ached as she made the trek to the pharmacist counter, tripping on the bottom of her sweats. She'd been wearing Harrison's clothes since she'd left the hospital what seemed like days ago, but in truth was only hours. His clothes easily dwarfed her tiny frame, but they gave her a small sense of security she was afraid she'd never feel in total again.

The pharmacist, a small Indian woman, held out a white bag for Olivia to take, along with a clipboard for Olivia an she began to explain the medications to Olivia. "This is a PEP, a post-exposure-prophylaxis. In lames terms, it's an anti-retroviral, an ARV treatment that reduces the likelihood of HIV infection. You'll take them over a four-week period. Always take with food and do not mix with alcohol." She instructed.

Olivia nodded, a knot forming in her throat at the mention of HIV. Her head began to swirl, and she had to grip the counter to stay upright.

"There's also a sleep-aid in there and a mild pain-killer; again, no alcohol.. There are follow up instructions for the ARVs that include scheduling a follow up appointment to re-check for HIV. If you have any questions, Miss Pope…."

"Harrison…" Olivia called out, unable to reach for the bag; reaching for it, taking it, meant solidifying the possibility of this all not being some horrible nightmare.

In seconds Harrison was at her side. He took the bag for her, the expression on his face sullen. "Come on, Liv. Let me help you."

Olivia nodded, reaching for Harrison's hand and waiting for him to guide her home.

Thirty minutes and a stint in rush-hour traffic later, Olivia opened the door to the apartment she shared with her boyfriend. She kicked off her shoes, unsurprised to find an empty apartment. Edison was a member of the US House of Representatives. With elections the day prior and holidays on the horizon, most committees would be looking to close out last minute business, which meant Edison would be gone for the day.

A note rested on the coffee table; Edison's bold penmanship stared back at her in thick block letters.

CALL ME, ASAP, OLIVIA.

IF I DON'T HEAR FROM YOU BY 8, I'M FILING A MISSING PERSON'S REPORT.

LOVE,

EDDIE.

Olivia sighed as she seized the note and turned it in her hands. She wasn't ready to talk to him. She didn't know how to tell him where she'd been – or how to tell him what'd happened. When she'd announced a year ago that she'd be taking time away from law school to work on the Grant campaign as an intern, he'd warned away. Of course most of his caution was due, in large part, to his own political affiliation and support of Senator Grant's opponent, but he'd warned Olivia of Grant's reputation for roaming eyes. At the time, Olivia had insisted Edison was just being an overbearing boyfriend, but now a part of her wondered what Edison knew that she hadn't.

"It's 7:30, Liv, you want to call Edison. I can if you don't want to?" Harrison asked as he kicked the apartment door closed.

"I want to take a shower." she took a deep breath, heading for the cordless phone resting on its cradle nailed to the wall.

"You need to eat so you can take your medicine."

"You mean my HIV drugs. I thought having to choke down the Morning After Pill was humiliating enough, but ARVs…."

"Liv, its not—"

Her fingers moved at lightening speed across the dial pad of the phone as she sucked in a breath. One ring, two…and on the third she was sent to voicemail. Relieved, she spoke into the receiver.

"Edison, it's me. I'm at home." Uncertain of what else to say, she quickly hung up and set the phone back down acutely aware of the eyes of her friend on her. "Harrison, I'm fine. You don't have to babysit me. Go home."

Harrison slipped off his suit jacket and threw it onto the back of her couch. "No. I'm not going anywhere, Olive Oil. Popeye is here to stay. At least until your Knight-n-Shining tax dollars gets home. Now, what do you want to eat?"

Olive Oil and Popeye, Olivia smiled at their childhood nicknames bestowed upon them by her mother after a set of matching Halloween costumes; the nickname made her feel okay - normal if only for just a brief moment.

But as he began to undo the buttons on his sleeves, a wave of nausea washed over Olivia; her mind flashed back to Big Gerry, to walking out of the bathroom and finding him with his sleeves rolled up and stalking towards her. Olivia shrank away, rushing towards bathroom. Harrison was hot on her heels, but she kicked the bathroom door shut behind her, causing it to slam in his face. She slid the lock into place and fell to her knees.

Nothing came out as she dry heaved into the porcelain, her head throbbing.

He knocked. "Liv?"

"I'm just gonna take a quick shower, Harry. I'm fine."

She's anything but fine, though. A sob escaped her lip as she peeled back Harrison's clothes and crawled into the shower, turning on hot water only.

-x-

An hour later ice cold water ran down Olivia's spine, her teeth chattered and her eyes were raw. She turned off the water and grabbed a towel off the rack. She wrapped it around her body, moving at all costs to avoid the mirror. She could see the bruises on her arms, felt the tug on her legs – she didn't want to see first hand what she actually looked like. Not when she felt as if her skin was burning, as if every budding bruise was a billboard advert declaring she'd been…

Even thinking the word made her feel sick – shameful.

Drying off, she pulled back on Harrison's clothes so she could escape into her bedroom. She moved quickly, water trickling down her neck as her curls clung to her skin. Opening her drawers, she fished through her clothes in hopes of finding something to wear, but everything felt too tight or too short and right now she just wanted to hide beneath layers. Instead of changing, she chose to grab a pair of underwear and slip back on her Harrison's clothes.

Harrison – her poor friend who'd yet to see a wink of sleep because of her. He'd been up since she'd shown up on his doorstep in a daze asking to use his shower. She pulled on her underwear and straightened herself out, padding back into her living room to find Harrison in the kitchen.

"I ordered Chinese, Italian, and even paid the Italian delivery guy an extra fifty to stop by that sandwich place you like to grab you a bowl of chicken soup."

"Harrison, you didn't…"

"I'm not your boyfriend, Liv. One of these days I'm gonna want my hoodie back." His head jerked toward the Jordan sweatshirt that engulfed her.

His cavalier tone caused a smile to flit across Olivia's face.

"You'll also owe me fifty bucks eventually."

She nodded, knowing he was joking, his attempt to restore some normalcy between them was much appreciated.

"Now I hate to do this to you, Olive, but you need to eat."

And the normalcy was gone. The day's events rocketed over her once more and she closed her eyes. He was going to go on about those stupid ARVs again.

"You said it yourself, Liv. We don't know who he's done this to before. You could…you can't…."

Tears were imminent. Salt began to seep down Olivia's cheeks and she nodded, her feet carrying her over to Harrison and into his arms. She could feel his hesitancy to touch her, to return her outburst of physical closeness when she'd done nothing but jump at his touch all day, but eventually he returned her hug. He pulled her close, rubbing small circles on her back and kissing the top of her head.

"It's going to be okay, Olive. It will be. I promise. Whatever you need, I got you. Cradle to the grave, remember?"

Olivia nodded against his chest. "Just stay by my side, Harry. I don't know how I'm going to do this."

"I'm not going anywhere."

The sound of the front door opening again caused Olivia to tense in Harrison's arms.

"Olivia, baby?" Edison called out, the sound of his footsteps coming toward the kitchen. "Where'd you go last night? I waited outside of Grant's campaign quarters. I've been calling you. Your disappearing acts are fine, as long as you call me so I know not to worry. Speaking of Grant, the Chambers are abuzz with all kinds of whispering. Apparently Grant was called down to the Metropolitan police department. He – Harrison, Olivia?"

Olivia burrowed deeper into Harrison's chest, holding onto her friend for dear life.

"Liv?"

"I told him no." She cried, voice muffled. "I told him no."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** To the guest author/reviewer, I do have a lot knowledge/experience in this subject area. I appreciate your advice and I shall definitely take it to heart.

I'd like to take a minute to address the guest reviewer whose comment I won't be publishing whom said I'm 'not handling this properly.' If you'd like to come off anon and have a conversation with me, someone who is a trained mandated reported on their campus and has thus taken countless courses + trainings in dealing with events such as those explored in this fic, I'd be more than happy to discuss. I'm not glorifying anything, in fact I'd assert it's the opposite & you're rightfully emotional over the prospects of something of this magnitude happening to our beloved Olivia Pope. Maybe it'll motivate you to become involved with the anti-sexual violence movement? If you're upset, that is understandable, but I don't do name calling. Fucked female isn't too nice now, is it? Also, female is a complex term that reduces a woman to her reproductive capabilities and simultaneously suggests I might not be human, either. Hate to disappoint you, but I'm not a dog with a blog or an ff account.

Now, to everyone else: thank you for your words, I'm sorry for the ridiculously long author's note and promise to try and keep it short and simple from now on.

This chapter is Fitz centric and we get a better idea of what's going on in the Grant quarters.

If you're still here with me, thank you.

If you've had to hop off, understandable.

I don't have another chapter pre-written here, but as I find the time to write in between final assignments, I'll definitely update.

Thanks.

* * *

Sleep is a foreign concept to Fitz as he wakes early the next morning. Bright green numbers stare back at him from the clock on the nightstand; 7:18am. He'd spent the night tossing and turning, in and out of conscious. After returning to his parents home from the station, he'd watched as his father seamlessly flitted about, unbothered and unbound by the accusations leveled against him earlier that evening. They'd spoken little of the event, Big Gerry waving it off any time Fitz suggested letting his mother in on the news.

 _This isn't the first time son, won't be the last. Women like this girl lie in wait for men like me. Don't worry about it tonight; tonight we celebrate; tomorrow we fight._

His back cracked as he moved to sit up, shoulders sore from the plush pillow topped mattress. He felt uneasy, stomach slightly queasy as he considered the last two days in his head.

Was his father a rapist? Was his father that man? And what about this girl? Who was she and what was her angle if she had one? Growing up Grant, Fitzgerald came across plenty of women interested in him solely because of his pocket book. The Grant family long had a history of deep wallets and wide influences starting way back with the California gold rush and ending with an oil line in Virginia. Every woman in ten-mile radius saw money. Was it so incomprehensible to believe that a young – perhaps cash strapped intern –had seduced his father? She'd batted her eyelashes just right, taken off her clothes, and pulled reeled in an old man?

The question bounced about Fitz's brain as he paddled to his feet and threw on a pair of sweats and a Harvard t-shirt and headed for the kitchen. A chill rested in the air of the two-floor DuPont townhome. As he reached the hall that separated the kitchen from the dining room, Fitz heard the low rumbling of hearty voices.

He followed the voices, entering the dining room to find Big Gerry seated at the head of the table. Two men, both in suits, sat on his left and right sides, pads of paper and am open laptop in front of them.

"Fitz!" Gerry called as he caught sight of his son. "Come, son. This here is Leo Bergman and John York. Leo, John, this is my son Fitz. He was with my yesterday during that whole mess. He's an attorney – works mainly in corporate and for the family out in California. He was there when the officers questioned me."

Fitz took in the two men, noting their slicked back hair and finite tailored suits. They both looked familiar but couldn't quite pinpoint where he recognized them.

"Nice to meet you, Leo, John." he gave them a tight nod, his attention redirected back to his father. "Dad?"

"Leo is a crisis manager; John here is a criminal attorney. Thankfully I was able to get ahold of them on such short notice before a mountain was made of a molehill. They're going to help me shut this mess down before it kicks off any higher."

There was that uneasy feeling twisting Fitz's stomach into knots as he stared at the three men at the table. "Shut it down?"

"Shut it down. Chief Ramsey has already given me the courtesy of keeping me off the books until we can figure out her price." Big Gerry sighed, annoyance in his voice.

"And then what?" Fitz questioned, moving further into the room. He took a seat at the table, eyes glimpsing a stack of photos on the table; various images from the campaign. He stared at them intently, wondering which woman it was that accused his father of…

"Well, we have two options; we pay or we play." Leo piped up. "We either give her the money and seemingly admit guilt—"

"She wanted it." Gerry insisted, cutting off Leo. "She seduced me. She came onto me. "

Fitz listened to the conviction his father spoke with, taking note of how level his voice was.

"Or we play. Show her what she has to lose with these kinds of accusations." Leo continued, getting to his feet. He grabbed the stack of photos and began sifting through them. Fitz watched with curiosity, his wonder satisfied when Leo held up a picture for the table to see.

It was a photograph of Big Gerry and a woman, a young woman with high cheekbones, deep brown skin, and wide doe eyes. She couldn't be older than twenty-five, if that. Her hair was pulled back, away from her face and she was dressed in a modest, high neck white blouse.

"Senator, what do you know about Olivia Pope?"

 _Olivia Pope._ Fitz stared at the photo, the gears in his brain moving at full speed. Olivia Pope: numbers. Unlike his father's other four bids for Senate, Fitz had sat this election out mostly. He'd touched base with his father every so often, but avoided the majority of the trail except a few pop in visits to assess campaign finances. Big Gerry didn't dig into his own pocket unless absolutely necessary. With Fitz holding the keys to most of the family business, any borrowing against the house had to be certified with Fitz first.

He'd met Olivia on accident; hadn't even known her name until a few moments prior. She'd nearly knocked him over in a rush to get Cyrus, a long time Grant family friend and campaign manager, with the latest polling projections. When he'd asked what was so pressing she'd screamed numbers before blazing a path to Cyrus. Fitz had admired her hustle that day, his eyes finding her the entirety of his tenure in the office. She was the first intern with an answer and the last one to leave the tale.

"What do we know about Olivia Pope?" Leo's voice cut through Fitz's daze.

No one at the table, including Big Gerry spoke.

"Honestly, you know nothing, people? She worked for you for almost a year and you've got nothing?" Leo huffed.

"She's a student of Cyrus Beene's." Gerry said.

"She knew the numbers." Fitz added.

"Numbers and Cyrus Beene. This is great. She's going to torpedo your entire lives because you decided it'd be okay to have sex with her and I feel like you just learned her name, Okay. Let's try this again, this time with what I know." Leo began to pace around the long dining room, holding onto the photo.

"She's third year law student at Georgetown, has an undergraduate degree from NYU in International Affairs. She's the girlfriend of Congressman Edison Davis…"

"Davis? Didn't he back Russet against me?" questioned Gerry.

"Ha! He did!" Leo shouted, hoping over to his notepad and scribbling something down on the paper.

Fitz watched as manic like glee spread through Leo Bergman before his eyes went around the table again. York, too, had scribbled something down on his note pad.

"Okay, now we're cooking. Someone want to get ahold of Cyrus Beene, see what else he knows about this Olivia. Lets see if we can get our hands on her finances, check out her parents…hopefully she's a registered Democrat so this is wrapped before it even begins."

"She's apolitical." Gerry's lips curled into a grin as the words left his mouth.

Fitz's brows furrowed, eyes catching the smirk on his father's face. Why would his father remember such an inconsequential detail?

"Apolitical? She's sleeping with a Democrat and working for a Republican. How is that – you know what, doesn't matter. We've got one angle. We'll hammer home on the rest later. What time do you have to head down to the station to give your statement?"

"I don't. The detectives are meeting me here in a few hours."

"Good, home court advantage. Let's get this into gear."

Fitz shook his head, in desperate need of a glass of water and a way to digest everything occurring at the table. He moved to get up, to slip out of the room preferably unnoticed when Gerry spotted him.

"Son, think you can get Cyrus here?"

"Yeah, dad. I'm just going to go grab some coffee first."

/

In the kitchen, Fitz all but took a nosedive for the coffee pot, a dull pounding rocketing between his temples. He leaned against the granite countertop, Olivia Pope's face popping into his thoughts. She was gorgeous – and if memory served him right, petite. She walked with confidence in herself, almost as if she knew she were the smartest person in the room. Hell, if she was a Cyrus survivor, she probably was.

He brought his mug to his lips and took a generous sip.

"Morning, Fitz."

Fitz turned to see his mother, Victoria, her blonde, nearly white hair pinned to her head in an elegant chignon. Ever the socialite, she was dressed to the nines; ornate jewelry draped around her neck, and a thin smile on her face.

"Hi, mom. What's got you up so early?"

"Don't play daft, Fitzgerald. We both know what's going on a room over."

His mother's words caught Fitz off guard and he tilted his head in confusion.

"I know about them all, son. Your father and I have been married for thirty-seven years. You don't stay married as long as we have and keep secrets like this. I'm surprised your father's ever sliding zipper hasn't bankrupted us yet."

It was like someone had tilted the room around him, to hear his mother speak of affairs and money like it was an every day commonplace occurrence. While he'd suspected and witnessed his father's infidelity, he'd thought his mother ignorant to it, but alas she wasn't.

"This one give us a price yet?" Victoria asked and Fitz shook his head. "She's going to play hardball, then, I take it. Well, I have a meeting with the Ladies' Society. Don't ring me unless the sky is falling." As quickly as she'd entered the room, she exited, taking with her a bottle of water.

Fitz leaned against the counter, mind moving a mile per minute.

 _This one give us a price yet?_

 _She seduced me._

 _She wanted it._

 _I gave her everything she asked for._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Well, you all got lucky. I finished an assignment early and found out I don't have to take a final so here you are. Trying to get this all out and strike while the iron is hot and school kills me. Please forgive me when I finally can't update like this.

Thank you for your support and again, I promise to treat this subject sensitively and with integrity.

Content warning: some images maybe hard to bear, some words hard to read. Also misogynoir rears its ugly head.

If you're still here with me, thank you.

If you've had to hop off, understandable.

* * *

Half eaten cartons of day old take-out sit opened on the kitchen table, drawing gnats like a light drew mosquitoes on a mid-summers night. An uncapped pill bottle sat next to a stack of mail and an empty water bottle lie on its side. Everything is still.

It's a little after 9am in the Pope-Davis apartment, but its occupants have yet to truly sleep. Olivia lie in bed, on her side, knees nearly to her chest. Her normally bright brown eyes were half closed. She clutched a pillow to her stomach, still wearing Harrison's clothes. Behind her, her friend lay, yesterday's suit servings as his pajamas. His eyes might've been closed, but the lack of loud snoring alerted Olivia to the fact that he wasn't asleep. How he'd yet to fall down on his face was a miracle within itself; he'd been up as long as her, if not longer. On the floor next to the bed rested Edison, shoes and suit jacket abandoned in a heap next to him. Again, his eyes were closed, but Olivia doubted he slept, either. Not after he saw the state she was in before she retired to bed.

Last night had been a nightmare. The last two nights had been, actually. She'd barely managed to tell Edison where she'd been when he'd asked, let alone the why. Each word felt like a festering sore on the tip of her tongue, a thousand paper cuts across her bare knuckles.

 _Hosp-hospital. He-he hurt me._

 _Who, baby, what happened?_

She'd never managed to explain, instead she'd cried herself hysterical and then to sleep, foregoing the food Harrison had purchased and her medication. During the night she'd woke to find herself alone in bed, darkness creeping in on her, and screamed for Harrison. He made her feel safe, his presence gave her a sense of normalcy.

The sibling she'd never been gifted, her mother losing the ability to bear children shortly after Olivia's fourth birthday due to a Cancer diagnosis, Olivia considered Harrison Wright her brother. His grandmother and legal guardian had been Maya Pope's nurse, seeing the Pope matriarch through her bout with the disease. When she'd passed days before Harrison's seventeenth birthday, the Popes promised her they'd look after her grandson. And they had, bringing him into their home and treated him like their own. Little did they known that seven years later, he'd return the favor.

They - Olivia and Harrison - had fallen somewhat asleep in their current position around two a.m. Instead of retiring to the couch, Edison took the bedroom floor (more than likely in confusion). Guilt swirled in Olivia's stomach as she cast her half closed eyes down at her boyfriend. Her memory was blurry; fatigue and hysteria blocking a generous portion of it, but she could remember Edison had tried to comfort her, to touch her, and she'd screamed.

Three years together, two sharing a home, and she'd screamed at his touch. The guilt rose again and a full sensation built between her legs - she needed to go to the bathroom. Carefully she worked to extract herself from Harrison's side, her aim to make as few waves possible to insure her companions remained asleep, but it was no use. The moment her feet hit the carpet, both Edison and Harrison popped up.

"Olive."

"Liv."

"I just need to go to the bathroom." She informed them, setting the pillow she'd clutched to her chest on the bed. Two sets of weary deep brown eyes stared back at her, the bags bold against their dark skin. Slowly, they nodded and Olivia padded to her toes, escaping to the bathroom.

Once inside, she slid the lock into place. The sudden need for a shower overwhelmed her and she began to peel back the layers of clothes, her brain forgetting its original intent.

/

An hour later, Olivia stood in the bathroom, teeth chattering and towel-less. Cold beads of water dripped down her back, her wet curls sticking to her forehead (if she kept wetting her hair like this, without conditioning it, she was going to dry it out).

Her eyes were glued to the faux granite countertop. She took a deep breath, trying to muster the strength to look up - to see herself for the first time in nearly forty-eight hours. Once she looked up, she knew it'd be over. What had happened to her would be real.

Salty tears slipped down Olivia's cheeks as she brought her eyes up to the mirror. A thumbprint rested right beneath the right side of her jaw that flared out into finger marks that nearly eclipsed the entirety of her neck. From there small, fingerprint bruises littered her body, a bite mark sat on the top of her left breast, and the flesh between her legs was too tender to move comfortably.

 _I know your type. You like it rough._

 _Pop those pretty lips open for me. Maybe next time I can put something between them._

 _Still apolitical, Alyssa?_

"Olivia?"

 _Still_

"Liv?"

 _Apolitical_

"OLIVIA?"

 _Alyssa?_

A knock followed her name this time and Olivia jumped, averting her gaze from the mirror and shrinking away from the door.

"Olivia, so help me to God, if you don't say something in thirty seconds, I'm kicking the door in." Harrison screamed from the opposite side.

Blinking hard, Olivia shook her head, trying to find her voice and use her words. "You kick in my bathroom door, and I kick your ass."

"That's my girl. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"For you to go home and sleep."

"Olivia."

"Harrison."

"Olivia?" the pitch and timbre of the voice changed; Edison.

"Eddie?" she called through the door; guilt building again.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You want to come out and eat breakfast; talk?"

Talk? She shook her head no, the room suddenly felt stifling, as if the walls were closing in on her; last night's panic attack blazed across her memory. She had to tell Edison something. He'd find out sooner or later. Any minute now, Olivia expected a Grant crony to show their face in an attempt to intimidate her into silence. If she didn't find her spine soon, they'd succeed.

She pulled Harrison's sweats back on, the fluffy cotton soaking up the water still rolling down her skin. Eventually she'd have to change, but not right now. Minutes later she undid the lock on the door and padded out into the living room. Both Harrison and Edison rose from their seats – Harrison on the recliner, Edison the couch.

"Liv, the AR—"Harrison started and she cut him a look to quiet him.

She didn't have any plans to skip the pills, but needed a minute to gather herself before starting the regimen.

"Harry, can you give me and Edison a minute please?" Olivia asked her friend. They shared a charged glance and Harrison nodded, silently signaling that her boyfriend didn't know anything past what he'd seen.

"I've got a change of clothes in my trunk; let me go grab them."

Seconds later the front door shut and Olivia and Edison were alone. Edison took a few steps in her direction, prompting Olivia to take a couple back. She held up her hand, her fingers shaking as she signaled she needed space in order to do this.

"Olivia, what happened, baby? I go to pick you up at Grant's and you're gone. You stay gone the whole day and when I finally see you you're hysterical and can barely get your words out. Baby, please tell me what's going on."

"Tuesday night, after the elections were called, and you called me to tell you'd be on your way in a little while…." she started, a knot forming in her throat, "something happened." How many more times was she going to have to say this?

"Whatever it is, Liv, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is…"

"You say that now, but you don't know what happened yet."

"I don't care, Liv. Whatever it is can't change the way I feel about you."

"It will though – it…"

"Olivia, I love you. It can't change that fact. It can't."

The tears began to roll down her cheeks and she grabbed at the collar of her sweatshirt, rubbing it over the bruise. "You told me once that Gerry Grant had a reputation for cat calling and skirt chasing…that's why you didn't want me to take the internship when Cyrus offered it."

Edison nodded and Olivia watched as his expression contorted from confusion to contrition. "Liv, did Grant come onto you?"

 _I know your type. You like it rough._

"He forced himself on me, Edison. He…he raped me."

* * *

Fitz's fingers hovered over the mouse pad of his laptop as he sat in the study sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee. His father's cavalier attitude and mother's blatant dismissal of the budding scandal played on an endless loop in his head. For the last couple of hours now, troops of all sorts flitted in and about the Grant home. Leo Bergman could be heard from rooms away gleefully sharing his findings.

So far they'd learned that Olivia Pope was twenty-four, at the top of her class, had mounting law school loan debt in the three figures, and as Leo had elegantly phrased it, a pension for older men. While Olivia had just hit twenty-four, Davis was quickly inching towards thirty-five. Fitz couldn't see how Leo had reached that conclusion - that Olivia liked men of a certain age - and felt uneasy at the prospects of exploiting her relationship (in the few pictures Leo had gathered of Olivia and Congressman Davis, they looked like a sweet couple – picturesque) to their benefit. But narratives mattered and Leo was determined to get one out before she did.

Although Big Gerry was his father, Fitz still was unnerved about the way events seemed to be unfolding. If Olivia truly was in this for a paycheck, were a few figures really worth all of this upheaval? The Olivia Pope he'd read about on paper, the one who'd nearly knocked him over didn't seem like the type to seek out a sleazy pay-off.

"Yo, little Grant! Any luck on reaching Cyrus Beene? We've got to get to him before she does. Once she's got her hooks into him, things might know go the way we'd like." Leo yelled as he entered the study unwelcomed. Fitz scowled at his presence.

"I left a message that it was imperative he call my father. Hopefully he'll returned my call soon." Fitz replied curtly, eyes narrowing to slits as Leo began to pace the room. In hand the man held a photo of Olivia, a headshot from the Intern website. Again Fitz couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was; her eyes told a hundred stories.

"Okay, good. The detectives will be here shortly and I've put an ear on the ground to see if she's contacted an attorney. So far nothing. We've got to be careful though; she's black and a woman. She might pull either card with an attorney and your father's a Republican so race wise this could be a disaster. I'll make a mental note to call the Black Republican Association later, maybe get some photos of them with your dad together in case this comes to press. Who knows about the woman thing…that'll be a bit trickier, but again she's a Black Woman and taking a page out of the Anita Hill playbook tells me it won't make great waves. Now, if your dad was black and she were white, this would be an uphill battle and no OJ payoff..."

The more Leo spoke, rattling off endless information, the more certain Fitz was that there was a trail of oil leaking from his suit. Bergman was dirty – a spin artist - and the girl he spoke so dismissively of, was a person, a fact Fitz nearly screamed, but remained quiet, gears still turning in his head.

"I wonder if we can find any old boyfriends that'd be willing to talk about her on record. Of course we can't do that in court - rape shield laws and all - but a good press tip off, maybe he has some obscene photos…"

"Get out." Fitz hissed, having reached his breaking point.

"Though it might be too soon to go the nuclear option…"

"OUT!" Fitz growled.

"Geez, junior, who pissed in your Wheaties this morning? Look, find me when Cyrus gets back to you." Leo turned on his heels and darted from the room.

As he disappeared, a tinge of anger seized Fitz.

 _Obscene photos…_

 _This one give us a price yet?_

 _She seduced me._

 _She wanted it._

 _I gave her everything she asked for._

Fitz reached for his cell phone that sat idly to the left of his laptop and quickly dialed his assistant out in California. He felt guilty for possibly waking her since it wasn't more than 8 am on the West Coast, but was surprised when she answered the phone on the first ring.

"Fitz, hey!"

"Hey, Alyssa. Are you in the office or are you home?"

"I'm walking through the door as we speak. What's up?"

"What's that attorney's name, the one who defended that woman last year - the one who killed her ex-husband out in Rancho Palos Verdes? The one that called the Castle doctrine into review."

"Gloria Bloom? The women's right attorney?"

"Gloria Bloom, yes! Can you find me her number, please?"

"Sure, but I don't think she handles estates or legal for individual companies…"

"That's not what I need her for. Just hurry up and get back to me and don't tell anyone I've asked you to contact her, okay?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** If only I could write my homework assignments as quickly as I seem to be writing this.

Content warning for some choice descriptors/images of violence/rape mention and just grade A assholishness.

Again, I promise to treat this subject with as much decency as possible and eventually I won't be able to update like this so forgive me!

Thank you for your investment and your kind words.

I'm also sorry for my habit of tense switching. I try to catch it before I publish, but most times I only catch it after. My apologies.

If you're still here with me, thank you.

If you've had to hop off, understandable.

* * *

 _He raped me._

There it was, the words she couldn't take back. They hung in air like a bright green light in a midday rush hour traffic jam, signaling her to continue but physically impossible. Edison didn't need the details, _no_ one did.

"He...what?"

She couldn't say it again. "He'd been coming onto me all night. Saying little things; dumb comments I was trying not to pay any mind. Once everyone started packing up for the night, I called you to see if you'd be able to come get me since your office is right there. When you told me it'd be a minute, I excused myself to the bathroom because Grant was making me uncomfortable. He just kept staring and I had to get away." Her eyes found Edison's. He just stood there, unblinking and still; uncertain how to respond. She let her gaze fall back to the floor once more.

"I was in there for a while - out of sight, out of mind - and when I finally came out, I thought everyone was gone. _He_ wasn't though. Everyone else had left. It was just him and me. He kept moving towards me, commenting on my clothes and my mouth. I didn't think - I didn't realize...He just launched at me. I didn't expect it; he's a big man, Edison. Before I knew what was going on, he'd forced me into the coat closet and he was everywhere; pulling at me, on me. I scratched him and he laughed at me. _I know your kind. You like it rough._ I should've done more, I should've fought back harder. I should've ran, not backpedaled." The more she thought about that night, the angrier Olivia became with herself.

Why hadn't she ran past him? Why hadn't she at least tried to run past him? Why did she back away, back down the hallway that would eventually seal her fate? Why didn't she scream? Bite? Do _something_ besides lay there and cry in the end.

Instinctively her fingers began to pull at the collar of confiscated sweatshirt. She could still feel his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing until -

"Olivia, what he did is not your fault- you didn't…it's not on you." Edison tripped over his words and took a step forward. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight and Olivia's head snapped up. She held a hand out, signaling for him to stop.

"Edison…"

"Liv, please let me hold on. I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to hold you." He extended a hand out towards her.

Olivia nodded and moved into him, two stray tears slipping down her cheeks. She didn't feel like she deserved to be held by anyone, let alone Edison. He was wrong; she did something to draw BG's attention and did little to curb it.

"I should've been there, Liv. I should've been there. I'm sorry."

She dug her chin into his chest, silent tears soaking into his dress shirt.

/

An hour later an exhausted Harrison slept, scrunched up on the recliner. Olivia sat on the edge of the couch, in between Edison's legs as he detangled her hair. In front of her sat a half eaten piece of toast. When Harrison had come back in from retrieving his clothes, he and Olivia argued about her ARVs until Edison had stepped in and she'd stubbornly took one. The three of them had gathered around the coffee table to talk game plans when ten minutes into their conversation, Harrison began to snore. Olivia was just thankful that he'd finally fallen asleep.

Edison's short fingernails scratched across her scalp and she sighed contentedly. A warmth spread through her body and she yawned. She hadn't really slept in about forty-eight hours now and if he kept this up she was liable to fall asleep any minute now (whether she stayed asleep would be the catch). His fingers worked downward and he pulled her hair away from her neck and out of the hood, his fingertips grazing a bruise in the process.

"Ow."

"Did I hurt you? Liv, shit. I'm sorry." Edison apologized, pulling back the hoodie to assess the damage he'd caused. In the process he'd managed to get a better look at her neck.

Olivia immediately shifted in his arms, acutely aware that his eyes were on the marks.

"Was that...that was Grant, wasn't it?"

"Don't. Please."

Edison sighed heavily, rubbing his temples and inevitably smearing jojoba oil on his face. Olivia smirked at the sight, a real smile threatening to crack across her face; the first in two days.

"You got a kick out of that, huh? Look, Liv...I need you tell me everything. Let me in. I'm here, right here for you and I'll be right next to you when it all kicks off."

She swallowed hard. "They're going to say things about me. About you. Harrison. My parents. He's going to pull all of his leverage, throw all of his weight behind making the DA drop this."

"And I'm going to throw all of my weight behind them not dropping it. I still have a few friends in the DA's office. We can beat him." Edison reassured, but Olivia could feel her resolve wavering and she wondered what the endgame is here. Men like Gerry Grant were untouchable.

Edison kissed her forehead and Olivia nods, folding her arms around her waist.

Just then a knock sounded against the door. Olivia jumped and Harrison woke from a dead sleep. Edison signaled for them both to calm down and scooted out from behind Olivia, heading towards the door. He swung it open and both Harrison and Olivia paddled over. In front of them stood a man with slicked back hair and a tailored suit.

"Hi folks, I'm gonna make this short. My name is Leo Bergman and I'm here for Olivia Pope."

Olivia peaked out from behind Harrison, squeezing in between him and Edison so she's at the front of the door. "I'm Olivia."

"Yes, I recognize you from your picture. Great play on the sympathy card with the two-day old sweats; really makes your performance convincing. Look," he pulled out a business card, mouth moving a mile per minute. He made Olivia sick to her stomach. "Call me when you have a figure for us and I'll get it back to Senator Grant as a negotiation. I hear false sexual assault accusations really set the whole feminist movement back."

She was going to be sick.

"You son-of-a-bitch." Edison seethed and before Olivia knew what'd happened, she was spun in place and Harrison straightened her out as a blur of suits and ties pushed their way into the hallway. Edison held Leo by the lapels of his jacket and Harrison tried to talk him down.

"Edison, man, it's not worth it…"

"Yes, _Representative_ Davis...I'd suggest letting me go or this thing can get a whole lot uglier."

Olivia shoved her way into the hallway, "Eddie, baby...please stop. He's not worth it. It's not worth it. Please. Stop."

"He's trying to intimidate you, Olivia, that's Victim Intimidation."

"Intimidation? Come on, I'm asking her to solve this at a table instead of a courtroom. Where's that intimidation, Eddie…"

Edison's grip tightened and Olivia began to pull at his shirt. "Edison, please!"

Minutes moved the clock forward and Edison finally let go.

Leo straightened out his jacket and brushed off his sleeves. "This inverse Three's Company Too is cute. Olivia, you have my number." He disappeared down the hall.

Olivia ran back into the apartment, her head a mess as she threw the card on the floor. Harrison and Edison followed close behind.

"Olive." Harrison started, but Olive shook her head.

"He thinks this is about money...it's not. He _hurt_ me. He…"

God, she needed another shower. Without finishing her sentence, she took off for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

After countless run-arounds and brush-offs, Fitz finally had Gloria Bloom's cell number in hand. He flipped it over, before dialing the number, making a mental note to give Alyssa a raise later. That girl was brilliant, why she was only his assistant when she was easily smarter than at least ten of the other associates in the firm was beyond him. Not only was she smart, she managed to do her job and be a full time single mother. Alyssa was a super hero.

"Fitzgerald Grant, you cast the deciding vote _against_ the Violence Against Women Act, effectively gutting it and increasing my workload, and then call my office. For what? To gloat? Celebrate? Ask for a photo op?" Gloria Bloom fired into the phone before Fitz was even granted the chance to speak.

On the opposite end of the country from the safety of his rented car, Fitz sighed into his cell. He wished this wasn't a common occurrence when people heard his name, but alas it was.

"Miss Bloom, I'm afraid -"

" _Ms._ Bloom, Senator. Now if you'll excuse me, my anger outweighs my curiosity and if I don't hang up now, I'm liable to say something I might eventually regret. Goodbye, Grant."

"Wait! I'm not my father, _Ms_. Bloom. I'm Fitzgerald Grant III. I should've had my assistant specify more clearly when she made the initial call, I apologize. Please don't hang up on me."

A loud sigh cracked the air and the sounds of shuffling and shifting littered the phone. For a moment Fitz thought Gloria had hung up on him - or rather was in the process of doing so - but was surprised when her voice sounded over the line.

"Mr. Grant, I'd like to say I could apologize about my choice of words, but I can't. Your father is-"

"Believe me, Ms. Bloom, you're not the first with a few choice words for my father. All is forgiven."

Her tone turned cold. "I haven't asked for forgiveness nor would I."

Fitz pulled the phone away from face and sighed; she wasn't going to make this easy. "It's just an expression, Ms. Bloom." He replied, penance laced his voice.

"Is there a reason you've reached out to me, Grant?" She cut to the point.

He faltered slightly, expecting more hardball from Gloria, though in truth he was pleasantly surprised by her bluntness. A lawyer that knew how to cut straight to the point was always worth their retainer. "Uhm, yes there is. I...I hear you're licensed in a few states."

"What's my license have to do with the price of tea in China?"

"I know a woman who may be in need of your assistance."

"If she's in need of my help, why isn't _she_ calling me herself? Why not give _her_ my number?"

"I don't know if she's in the right headspace to make a call like this at the moment." _And I'm not sure if she could afford your retainer._

"So you've taken it upon yourself to make the call for her? To _decide_ for her? How... _Grant_ like."

"Look, Miss - _Ms._ Bloom, something happened to her and the vultures are starting to circle. She's about to be blindsided by Leo Bergman and John York."

"Bergman, the crisis manager?"

"If that's what we're calling him, then yes."

"And York, he's a notorious criminal attorney. Most notable for the way he harangues women in sexual assault suits. What are these two doing together?"

"I think you've already answered your question."

"So this woman then, she a _friend_ of yours? Is that why you've called me?"

A friend? Fitz paused, holding the phone to ear and chewing on the flesh of his cheek. She wasn't a friend. Hell, Olivia Pope should've been his foe since she was about to go against his father, but she wasn't that either. He didn't know Miss Pope outside of one night and a stack of papers, but something about her drew him in and led Fitz to question his father's veracity.

"She's...I don't like unfair fights and she's about to be blitzed. She could use someone of your caliber on her side. There's just one stitch, which brings me back to the licensing issue; she's in Virginia."

"Virginia, hmm."

He didn't like the sound of that hmm and his mind drifted to the worst case scenario. "Do you at least know anyone in Virginia?"

"Anyone won't do. You're going to need my name if this case is gearing up to be as high profile as you seem to be hinting at here. I _am_ licensed in Virginia, but I'm not as familiar with their books as I'd like. I know a couple of other people, though. Just tell me before we go any further, who's the prospective defendant?"

"My father."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Again, if I could write other things as quickly as these chapters keep coming to me, I'd be finished with college.

If you're still with me, thank you.

If you had to hop off, understandable.

No content warnings this time.

Again, please still love me when I inevitably hit writer's block and my responsibilities catch up to me.

* * *

Edison was hovering. And while Olivia knew he meant well, she was starting to go mad. Nearly a week had come and gone since filing her original police report and she'd just received a follow-up call from the detectives to discuss the next steps to move forward. Outside of Leo Bergman's untimely appearance, she hadn't heard anything else from the Grant camp, and she'd finally managed to convince Harrison to go back to work. While so many things were still up in the air and she'd yet to truly form a game plan, she needed to find at least a few pockets of normalcy. A concept Edison had yet to grasp. If she moved, he did, too. She didn't like to be treated with kid gloves, regardless of what had happened to her.

"Let me grab you a bagel, Liv, you need something to eat. Coffee isn't sustenance." Edison prodded as he took a seat across from her; they were in a small coffee shop just around the bend from the police station. It was a cool Tuesday morning in D.C. All around them the hustle and bustle of everyday life occurred. For a brief moment, Olivia felt normal, as if she blended in instead of stood out with the word incapable tattooed to her head.

"I'm not hungry, Edison."

"Your AR-"

"I don't have to take them for another three hours. When I have to take it, I'll eat a piece of toast."

"Liv-"

"Eddie, I know you mean well, but I just need a minute, okay?" she glanced up at the clock above the Barista counter: 10:23am. "What time is she supposed to be here again?"

"10:30."

Olivia's eyes cut towards the door and she watched it in anticipation. She was set to meet her advocate. While Olivia had staunchly refused an advocate the night the hospital had sent the girl to meet her, the advocate hadn't been so easily dissuaded. Abigail, as Olivia had come to know her from her voicemails, was a determined one. Resigned to the fact that some people had to be told in person to go away, Olivia agreed to meet Abigail before round two with the detectives.

"I don't know why she just won't leave me alone. Isn't it her job to ask me what I want and abide by that?" Olivia groaned as her phone lit up signaling she had a text message.

 **Here! Back by the bathrooms. :)**

"She's here." Olivia held her phone out for Edison to see.

"Well, let's go talk to her. We have to be to the police station in an hour." He climbed to his feet and Olivia took a deep breath.

"I can talk to her alone."

"I'll walk back -"

"I can walk alone, too." She couldn't help the annoyance that seeped into her voice. "I'll be right back, okay?" She didn't want for him to respond, she got to her feet, grabbed her nearly full lukewarm mug of coffee, and began the trek towards the bathrooms. Her heart beat fast as she moved, tugging on the sleeves of Harrison's hoodie. She'd changed in his sweats for a pair of her own, but had yet to give him back his sweatshirt. For some reason, it made her feel safe and she wasn't ready to let go of it just yet. Her eyes searched the crowd and nearly groaned once she spotted the bright red hair of the woman she was set to meet (Abigail had sent her a photo that morning).

Feet like lead, Olivia dragged herself forward, a nauseous feeling blooming in her belly. Once she reached the table, Abigail stood up, a tight smile on her face.

"Hi, Olivia, I'm-"

"Abigail Whelan, I know. You sent me a picture and won't stop leaving me voicemails."

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you can call me Abby."

"As you can see, I'm in one piece, so will you leave me alone now?" Olivia asked, an edge to her tone.

"I will if you sit and talk to me for a few minutes. Just a few. About anything. The weather, life on mars, how sucky the New York Knicks are playing."

"Hey, watch it, I'm from New York."

Abby smiled and sat down, motioning for Olivia to sit with her. Begrudgingly, Olivia did, setting her coffee cup down first.

"Is that your husband?" Abby asked, waving.

Olivia turned to see Edison on his feet, his brows drawn together in a look of concern. She turned back around in her chair and let out an exasperated sigh. "My boyfriend."

"He seems sweet. Attentive."

"Try overbearing."

"Overbearing? In general or since…does he know?"

"He's always worried about me, but it's become extra and stifling since I told him. He's treating me with kid gloves and it's starting to drive me crazy." Olivia answered honestly, stomach twisting in knots. She didn't know why she was telling a stranger this; the less people knew about her, the better. Olivia wasn't good at letting people in; it'd been a habit she'd adopted from her father, the professor.

"He's concerned about you. Have you told him how it's making you feel?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and crossed her legs underneath the table. Her shoelaces were untied and her sweats slid up her leg to reveal ashen skin; she was up to three showers a day and her skin was starting to show it.

"With all due respect, my relationship is none of your business," Olivia shot back and Abby nodded.

"Okay," Abby paused, thinking through her words before she spoke once more. "Have you considered talking to someone professional about what's going on, then? Maybe with your boyfriend? Counselling after trauma can help a good deal. It gives you an outlet, a way to find out how to cope with feelings of perhaps inadequacy, anger, hurt, and shame."

 _Crying is for the weak, Olivia. Suck it up and do it again. This time perfect._

"I know a few counselors. They have individual and group sessions. It might help to sit down with other women, realize you're not alone in this?"

 _You're a Black woman, Olivia, in a white world. You have no friends. You have no allies. You carry the weight of this world on your own. You have to be strong._

"I'm fine, Ms. Whelan. Really. I'll be okay." Olivia shook her head, aiming to get her father's voice out of it.

"Abby, Olivia. And you do know it's okay to not be okay, though, right? You don't have to be strong all the time. You just have to let someone in."

"No." Olivia snapped with such ferocity that Abby's head jerked back almost as if she'd been hit. "I have to be strong. I can't break. I break and they win. I can't let them win."

"Them, you mean the man that hurt you?"

"Are you always so persistent?" Olivia hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Are you always so closed off?" Abby responded in kind.

"I'm-" she didn't know how to answer the red-head's question; her lips wanted to form a yes, but her head shut her down. "I have somewhere to be shortly, is there anything else you wanted from me?"

"Just to talk. Just for you to let me know what you need."

A pique of irrational anger seized Olivia just then and she gritted her teeth. "I want to feel normal again. I want you to stop being so damn invasive, presumptuous, and overly friendly. I have enough friends. I'm getting really sick of people reminding me of what happened to me, too." she climbed to her feet and picked up her mug. "I know!" she growled and turned on her heels, nearly tripping on her laces.

A hand reached out to steady her and she ended up spilling a bit of coffee on her sleeve. The worst thing about niche, individually owned coffee shops were their lack of travel drinkware. Wrenching her arm away, Olivia moved back, mouth set to form an apology, but stopped short when she realized just who she had ran into.

Fitzgerald Grant III.

A tinge of fear jolted up Olivia's spine and her breaths became quick, labored. She'd only met him once before, but had glanced at his pictures enough on the campaign trail to be able to pick him out of a crowd. First that slime ball Leo, now BG's son. They weren't going to let up until she refused to talk.

"I'm truly sorry, Miss-"

Her body moved before her mind could catch up with it. She tossed the contents of her coffee cup in his face, watching as the dark liquid seeped into the white of his shirt. The coffee cup clanged to the floor, promptly shattering. "YOU AND YOUR FATHER BOTH CAN GO STRAIGHT TO HELL!" the coffee shop grew quiet at Olivia's outburst and she bolted for the door, her legs burning as she ran.

"Olivia!

"Olivia!"

She heard her name being yelled, but that didn't stop from moving.

* * *

It'd never been his intention to walk into Olivia Pope, nor had he meant to touch her. Hell, he hadn't realized it was her until she'd rounded on him. But here he was now, drenched in thankfully warm coffee, the eyes of everyone in the shop now on him as Olivia's boyfriend and then the redhead she'd been talking to dashed after her.

He reached for a stack of napkins from the holder on the table the redhead had abandoned and began to pat at his suit.

"Sir, you okay?" he heard someone ask and he shook his head, attempting a smile that faltered out into a grimace. Every inch of him wanted to run after Olivia, selfishly assure her that he wasn't like his father, that more and more he believed _her_ but he stayed put. Gloria Bloom was set to meet him in the coffee shop in minutes and he still needed to go to the bathroom.

It'd been a trying week for Fitz, watching as his father mounted defenses, while he tried to subtly find a way to help Olivia build her own. After three days of back and forth with Ms. Bloom, they'd made an agreement to meet Tuesday morning. Fitz had learned from his father that the DA was set to drop the case, citing insufficient evidence of the 'he-said-she-said' matter and knew Ms. Bloom needed to move quickly. Olivia was set to meet with the DA in roughly thirty minutes (it was amazing what information supposedly tight-lipped officers gave out when a little cash was thrown around) to learn her fate; Ms. Bloom's appearance would no doubt be a game changer for the DA.

He checked his watch, sidestepping questioning glances and hurried to the restroom, minutes later he returned to the hustle and bustle of the shop, thankful to find that everyone had gone on with their days. Tucked in a corner, he was surprised to find the one and only Gloria Bloom; she was tinier than he'd expected, her honey brown hair was pulled back away from her face, and she wore a grey blazer over a black pants. He walked towards her knowing full well she'd want an explanation for his appearance.

"Ms. Bloom." He greeted, a now dried coffee stain popping against the white of his shirt

"Laundry day?" she asked, a smirk playing on her features.

Fitz worked his jaw, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes and end this meeting before it even started. "The hazards of doing business in a coffee shop, sadly." He lied, taking the seat from across her. "Is your Virginia colleague meeting us here or?"

"Once I've talked to Olivia Pope, he'll be meeting me to strategize."

"He?"

"Contrary to popular belief, Grant, I can play well with men. Also, any time a man repeats what a woman's already said, they tend to be listened to a bit better."

Fitz's brows furrowed and he moved to protest her words, trying to recall an instance where he'd actively sought out a man's opinion over a woman's, but couldn't. Could he? Better to not cause conflict, he decided, nodding at Ms. Bloom's words.

"So you've called in me on your father, this woman must make a compelling case." Gloria spoke.

"Let's say my father makes a compelling case against himself."

"Why do you care?"

Fitz was taken aback by her question and it must've shown on his face.

"Why? I'm almost certain this isn't the first woman your father's done this to; why her?"

"I…" he was at a loss for words, suddenly uncertain of his actions; he seemed to be doing things without thinking past a certain point as of late. "I haven't been in my parents' home since I was eighteen, Ms. Bloom. I honestly didn't know who my father was - is up until a week ago. I knew he was prone to dalliances outside of my mother, but the way he's been speaking…"

"Is probably the way he's spoken his entire life about women. It shows in his Senate record. Why do you care about this woman? Are you trying to bed her? _Have_ you bedded her?"

Again, Fitz was at a loss for words. He was most certainly not trying to bed Olivia Pope. Yes she was an attractive woman, but she was unattainable, probably in more ways than one now. He was just trying to do the right thing for a woman who seemed to need the help. Wasn't he?

"Or is this you turning the screws to your father? A way to get over on him and this woman is collateral damage? I need to know what the point is in all of this for you."

"I have no ulterior motives, Ms. Bloom. Like I said on the phone, she's about to be blitzed. My father's been far too flippant about the seriousness of the situation at hand and if he hurt that girl," from the outburst earlier, he was almost certain Gerry Grant had, "he deserves to be punished. Leo Bergman's already taken one shot at her. I told you over the phone the maligning they're gearing up to do if she goes civil." Fitz explained.

Gloria nodded, though there was still a glint of suspicion to her gaze. "How do I know you're not setting me up for failure here? Tank me it's a win for your father. I can see the Fox News headlines now, 'Feminist Banshee Destroyed by Man of God'"

He tried and failed not to sigh, his eyes involuntarily rolling. "Would I be paying for the legal fees of all of this if I planned to ruin you? That seems like a lot of money and time wasted."

"You're a Grant, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." she declared with a tap of a perfectly manicured nail against the wood of the table.

"Then you'll lose your chance to take down my father. It's simple. Trust me and help someone who needs you. Don't and someone like my father gets off scot-free."

"You do realize when I take this and your family finds out you sent me, you're going to war."

* * *

Olivia's head spun as she sat in the police station, a furious Edison pacing in place next to her. She felt numb, yet ripped open and exposed for the world to see. The coffee shop had rattled her to the core and getting her to calm down and make the trek to the police station had been a challenge, indeed. Abby had insisted cancelling and allowing Olivia to head home, but through the haze of it all, Olivia had insisted they head for the station. She wasn't going to be intimidated by Leo Bergman nor Fitzgerald Grant III.

Abigail sat next to Olivia on the bench, though her presence was hardly noticed as Olivia chewed on her lip, staring off into the distance. The only thing able to snap her out of her trance was the sound of heels on linoleum. Instead of being greeted by the detectives from last week, she was met by an ADA.

"Olivia Pope, I'm ADA North. Let's talk in the captain's office."

Olivia nodded and she got to her feet, her heart thrumming madly. They were supposed to meet the detectives; why was the ADA here? She looked to Edison who was still fuming, to see if he knew this woman. He gave no inclination and together they followed her to her office. Abby remained seated.

Once inside the office, the trio took a seat. After assuring North that he wasn't there in any official capacity, she began to speak about the case at hand.

"Miss Pope, this is a very delicate matter. Senator Grant is a man of prestige. He's well known in this country. Admired. And from the looks of things, he's asserting this was consensual rough sex."

Olivia's eyes closed and tried to focus, to center herself at the words. "It wasn't."

"Olivia, if I may, with he-said-she-said cases in front of juries-"

Before ADA North was allotted the chance to finish her words, her door banged open.

"Now, now, Elizabeth…" Gloria Bloom spoke, stepping into the room, "Isn't it the ADA's job to ask the victim what they want before delivering a game plan?"

"Gloria Bloom." ADA North mouthed, her confusion clear as day. "I wasn't aware that you were representing Miss Pope."

"Neither was I." Olivia added just as confused. "I didn't...I can't...I haven't…."

"It is okay, Miss Pope, I was sent by a friend."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I told you one day I wouldn't be able to update daily and I meant it. Sorry! I had a paper due.

No content warning, though please don't throw too much stuff at me when you get the to end.

Thanks to Mari, aka ThePaperFrames for her story cover and for looking this stuff over for me. If you have a spare moment and want something lighter than the horror I'm cooking up, I'd recommend her story Metanoia or Sleep on the Floor. They're both adorable (just make sure you read her latest A/N please).

If you're still here with me, thank you.

If you've had to hop off, understandable.

* * *

"Son-of-a-bitch."

Fitz paused his forward stride and turned on his heel at the sound of the outburst. He'd been on his way up to his room in hopes of finding a clean shirt when the expletives had caused him to pause.

"Cock-sucking-son-of-a-damn!" The outburst continued and Fitz followed the voice to his father's study. In front of the large bay window that overlooked the backyard stood Leo Bergman, pacing like a madman. He looked absolutely incensed, ears red with rage.

"She's a goddamn law student, she worked this campaign for pennies. How did she even get Gloria Bloom to return her phone call? I bet it was that boyfriend. Wasn't it? Throwing around his congressional credentials."

At Gloria's name, Fitz paused. A grin threatened to tug at his cheeks at watching Leo flounder; game, set, match.

"My sources are never wrong. Never. How the hell did she get to Bloom without me knowing? Damn it." He turned quickly, banging his hand on the solid oak desk. "We've gotta get out in front of this now. I know Bloom. If we don't leak the story, she'll make sure Olivia is on the cover of every newspaper in Virginia by tomorrow. Then the story will get picked up by just about every online rag there is and in days we'll have Olivia Pope crying to the public in a scheduled TV interview with Diane Sawyer."

Leo looked as if he was about to explode, the possibilities of what Glora Bloom was up to driving her up one wall and down the next.

"We've got to leak the story. Put this out there as an affair. Paint her as a disgruntled intern not given a position on staff and is now striking back."

"That's disgusting." Fitz huffed.

"It's necessary. You want your dad out of this unscathed or not." Leo asked, turning toward Fitz. "She's about to shoot his reputation to hell with the help of that shrew and you're worried about what? Her reputation? She's a nobody in this, a non-factor. The big hit here will be your father. His work? All of it down the drain."

"Do you have a hard-on for my father or something?" Fitz couldn't help but ask. The way Leo jumped to his father's defense would've almost been amusing had it not been for the woman hanging in the balance.

"Excuse me?"

"You're falling over your own two feet to what, get down on your knees for my dad? I don't think you're his type, Leo."

"I'm in here busting my ass to keep your old man intact and you're what...making light of this? Joking? Do you know who Gloria Bloom even is?"

Fitz had to force the smile threatening to tug his lips upward down. Did he know who Gloria was? Ha, if Leo only knew. But he couldn't know. Fitz still needed an upper hand.

"A thorn in your side?" Fitz asked, feigning ignorance with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah, Junior, just keep laughing it up. Real funny. She's an attorney; Gloria Steinem with a law degree. She probably just made it her life goal to destroy your father."

"Interesting life goal. I hope you're worth the money my father's paying you, then." Fitz shrugged and left the room, heading for her bedroom.

Once up the stairs Fitz busied himself with a change of clothes, his thoughts immediately turning to his run in with Olivia. She was a lot smaller than he remembered, or perhaps it was the sweatshirt clearly several sizes too big that hung from her petite frame. He briefly wondered if it was property of Representative Davis, but those thoughts were quickly chased from his head as the look on her face rang through his memory. Fear, clear as dead colored her large brown eyes. The look would permanently haunt him. All he'd done was reached out to steady a falling woman and instead he'd scared her; he'd shaken her to her core. And now he needed to know if she was okay. The selfish part of him needed to clear his name. Seeing him had done something to her and he wanted to apologize, separate himself from his father and show her that the apple fell into the next yard and not just below the tree.

But he had no right to seek her out. Not after what his father…The thought alone inspired a bout of anger within Fitz. His father could have any woman he wanted - Gerry Grant had Fitz's mother - why would he want to take it from someone? Especially someone so petite, so… small. He closed his eyes as he pulled on a fresh tank top and then a crisp white shirt. Olivia Pope was petite, she was small, but the fire with which she'd approached him earlier didn't go missed either. She seemed to be a spitfire underneath it all. The woman he'd read about on paper, the one he'd ran into that day months ago didn't seem like the type to curl and hide. He only hoped Gloria Bloom could put the fight back into the sunken woman he'd seen mere moments ago.

* * *

Disbelief lit Olivia's eyes as she stared at Gloria Bloom. The woman had been had been throughout all her law books, crowned the Women's Champion by _Ms. Magazine_ several times over the last decade, daughter of _the_ Lisa Allred stood in front of her. But she hadn't called Gloria - hadn't contacted her and couldn't figure out why Ms. Bloom was here.

Olivia cut her eyes to Edison, wondering if the man next to her had done this. They'd talked lawyers, but locally; nothing of Gloria Bloom stature. Olivia couldn't believe Edison had hired her.

Blinking hard, Olivia pulled herself back into the present, closing her mouth that'd fallen open ever so slightly. Her brows furrowed as she zeroed in on the conversation.

"Now, let's start from the beginning. Where were we? He-said-she-said? Yes, she, Miss Pope, said no. He, Senator Grant forced her. Now that I'm caught up, let's move on." Gloria smiled, but there was nothing inviting about the expression on her face. Her tone was icy, clipped and blunt. "Elizabeth, if you're about to do what I think you are, I suggest you re-think this very carefully. I can have Olivia schedule with the Associated Press in hours. I have Robin Roberts on speed dial as we speak. And she owes me a favor." Gloria tilted her head, a smirk playing on her features. "I'd hate to get the wrong idea here, too, and have to file a prosecutorial misconduct complaint. Things could get ugly and fallout is inevitable. I'd hate to see you become a casualty in all of this - an inevitable scapegoat."

Olivia's eyes widened as she watched the exchange. She found the whole thing exhilarating and even though they were discussing her, the entire scene was a breath of fresh air. It felt like trial prep from advance litigation, it felt like normal.

"That won't be necessary, Gloria. I just called Miss Pope down here to let her know the detectives weren't done investigating yet and once they are, I'll be calling her."

"That's what I thought. Olivia, Representative Davis, if you'll follow me. Ms. North will get back with us tomorrow to start building a strategy."

"Tomorrow." ADA North agreed, a tight lip smile on her face, though flames danced in her eyes.

Olivia and Edison rose to their feet, Edison guided her towards the office door. His hand fell to the small of Olivia's back and she flinched out of his touch.

Gloria was hot on their heels, but paused as she reached the door, turning back to ADA North. "And I expect Senator Grant to be arrested today for rape along with the announcement of a formal investigation."

* * *

The sun had set below the horizon and Fitz found himself in the kitchen once more, sifting through the fridge. Magda, the house hand, had offered to fix Fitz dinner, but he'd opted out. At the news that Gloria Bloom had been spotted this side of the country, panic had set in at the Grant estate. The leaks inside of the station that Leo had bragged about seemed to be holding shut and the ADA wasn't returning phone calls. York was in overdrive building a defense, bringing in interns and legal wingmen, while Bergman was eerily quiet. Fitz had removed himself from the equation, opting out to tend to some business in California via phone.

He'd missed several calls from Mellie, his on-again-off-again girlfriend back on the west coast in the process, and had only emerged from self-seclusion when the hubbub had seemed to die down. His stomach had lead him to picking through the refrigerator now, in search of something filling and quick; his mind was still all over the place. He'd hoped shop talk with Alyssa would've given him tunnel vision, but it'd done nothing of the sorts. His mind still wandered to that afternoon, to Olivia Pope, and the battle at hand. Only now had he considered Gloria's warning about war with his family; Fitz didn't hate his family, but his relationship with both of his parents had always been tense, at best.

Victoria Grant was distant and aloof, more worried about social echelons than her son, leaving Fitz to search out warmth from his various nannies. Big Gerry, on the other hand, was a bully. He ruled his son with an iron fist, pushing the boy relentlessly and without mercy leading Fitz to break away at eighteen. He'd gone to school away, lived abroad, and eventually settled across country, learning to live on his own. Every year, though, he went through the motions of pretending to be a close-knit family; Thanksgivings together, Christmases.

"La policía está aquí." Magda called to Fitz, entering the kitchen.

Fitz paused his perusal and turned, understanding Magda with somewhat ease; he spoke three languages: English, French, and Spanish (though his Spanish was conversational at its best).

"Por tú padre, Senator Grant."

"Fitz! Fitz!"

Before Fitz could form a response to Magda, his mother's voice pierced the air. He followed the sound of her screaming to find his father being put in handcuffs by two younger cops.

"Senator Grant, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the -"

"I know my damn rights, I've got a law degree, goddamnit." Gerry hissed as the cuffs closed around his wrists.

The scene in front of him was like something out of a film. Fitz hadn't expected this, but he wasn't sad to see it happen either.

"Honestly, are cuffs really necessary? He's a Senator, for crying out loud." Leo growled, phone to his ear, his attention split between Gerry and his phone. "Do it now." he shouted into his phone before his attention fell back onto the scene at hand.

"To an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you." The cop continued.

"He has an attorney!" John York rounded the corner behind Leo and Victoria stalked towards Fitz.

"Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?" The cop finally finished, leading Gerry towards the door.

Victoria frantically yanked on her son's shirt, "Fitz, you need to go with your father to pay his bail."

 _This one give us a price yet?_

Fitz pulled out of his mother touch and ran a hand through his curls. "I think it'd look better if his wife did it."

* * *

Olivia sighed as she held onto the coffee cup in hand, nursing a bit of wine. She knew she wasn't supposed to be drinking, but after the day she'd had, it was the only thing to take the edge off. Once Gloria Bloom had shown up out of the blue, everything seemed to simultaneously slow down and speed up. ADA North had yet to call her back to let her know how and when they'd be proceeding, but from the threat Ms. Bloom had dealt her, Olivia had no doubt Ms. North would call by morning. The – Olivia, Ms. Bloom, Edison, and Abby – had only talked for a bit, saving the rest of their conversation for the next day to give Olivia some time to regroup.

It was all becoming real. This had happened, and it'd happened to her. She couldn't keep pretending like it was some distant memory of a time passed; soon – as both Ms. Bloom _and_ Abby had explained to her that day – she'd be confronted by her very real present. Abby had explained to Olivia that she didn't have to do this, to go through with trial and just try to find a way to heal, but Olivia refused. Pandora's box had already been opened.

She took another sip of wine and stared out the window that overlooked the busy D.C streets. How was she supposed to do this? A woman who'd grown up learning to keep her hurt and pain inside so it couldn't be used against her now having to go in front of a jury to tell them she hadn't been able to protect herself. She'd let Big Gerry blitz her – had ignored her gut and let her guard down and now she paid the price. God, what was she going to tell her parents when this thing spiraled because she was certain it would. Eventually her name would get out there – she was David and Goliath wouldn't go down with rock to the head – and she was worried what that meant for her family and for Davis. Would her family get out wholly unscathed? In two short weeks, she was set to be in New York City with her parents for Thanksgiving. She'd have to tell them before someone else did even though the mere thought of uttering the words once more burned her from the inside out.

An errant tear slipped down her cheek and Olivia bit her bottom lip to stop the sob that crawled up her throat in its tracks.

"Liv."

She turned her head at the sound of her name to find Edison, half smile on his face, starring at her. Best she could, she dabbed at her eyes and yawned, trying to hide the fact that she was crying. "Yeah?"

"This afternoon was a lot to take in, baby. You want to talk about any of it?"

She shook her head no. "Why didn't you tell me you'd hired Gloria Bloom, though? I wouldn't have been so…quiet. I would've tried to pull myself together a bit better. I know we talked lawyers, but she's…"

"I didn't hire her."

"She said friend and I assumed it was you. It couldn't have been Harrison, except for today he's been with me. And you two are the only two who know."

"You didn't ask her?"

"No. I think she could tell she'd caught me off guard. I'm just thankful she agreed to hold off on any big conversations until tomorrow. I can only take so much in one day right now." Olivia revealed, hating to admit that she felt overwhelmed right now, but unable to hold it in.

"What about Abigail?"

"No, she wouldn't have until speaking with me. Besides, I don't think she could've pulled in Bloom's attention either. Gloria Bloom is –"

"A big damn deal. She's testified before congress in the past. This…this is big, Liv. Are you sure you're ready for what's about to happen?"

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, her words dying on the tip of her tongue. Was she ready? _No._ Did she have a choice? It felt like she hadn't had a choice since the night she was attacked.

"I -" Olivia started, but was interrupted by the sound of a frantic knock on the apartment front door. Her phone began to buzz at the same time. She and Edison exchanged glances as he moved to answer the door and Olivia reached for her phone; it was Abigail. Olivia rolled her eyes, annoyance creeping up her spine as she set her phone back down, refusing to answer the call.

"Turn on the damn TV!" she heard Harrison's voice shout.

The sound of his voice lead her to her feet and into the living room where Edison abided by Harrison's demands.

"FOX5, put it on FOX5"

Again, Edison did as Harrison instructed as the TMZ logo to pop up. Olivia joined the two just in time to catch the beginning of Harvey Levin addressing his group.

 _It looks like we've got another John Edwards on our hands, ladies and gents. Rumors swirling around DC that Senator Grant, the sixty-three-year-old Virginia Senator has been stepping outside of his marriage with a twenty-four-year-old campaign intern._

A picture of Olivia on the campaign speaking with Big Gerry popped up on screen. Olivia felt her knees buckle and she almost hit the floor, but managed to grab the arm of her recliner just in time.

"What the fuck?" Edison yelled at the TV.

 _So, you're telling me that, that guy pulled her? You expect me to believe that?_

 _Oh, come on, she doesn't look like a dumb girl. Hump and dump that a few times and she's set with law school loans._

 _Isn't this guy the grand wizard of the Klan or something? How'd he manage to pull Black Barbie?_

Olivia gripped the chair tighter, the air slipping out of her lungs. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. She was going to be sick.

In seconds both Harrison and Edison were helping her to the couch with Harrison reaching for the remote to turn off the TV. Olivia's phone buzzed hard against the kitchen table and as soon as she hit the couch, she curled into a ball, unable to stop the tears.

"Olive."

"Olivia."

"I didn't – he made me. I didn't. I'm not – we're not." She couldn't breathe, all she could do was close her eyes and cry.

The narrative had been set and now her uphill battle had turned into a mountain climb.


End file.
